


stir crazy

by daydreamsago



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst and Tragedy, Attachment, Codependency, Crimes & Criminals, Doomed Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsago/pseuds/daydreamsago
Summary: "Do you... still love me? Even after what I did?"Phil's heart ached a little with the sound of his words, so he took Dan's hand and cradled it in his own. "Unconditionally."





	stir crazy

**Author's Note:**

> this story has been in the works for over a year, i just never got around to finishing it like i wanted to. my plans for it changed multiple times, but some things didn't change at all.
> 
> i projected a lot of my own emotions onto these characters, i'll admit. so this story explores the scenario of stumbling upon something amazing, and then losing it just as quickly as you found it. it's also about suffocating, in a way. i'll stop talking now.
> 
> please enjoy.

"Right this way, Mr. Lester," the prison guard said in a husky voice, as if to sound more powerful and authoritative. They rounded a corner, towards the gloomy wing Phil would be calling his own. He could feel the guard's rough hands digging into his bicep; an annoying type of pain that he wished would fade away. The metal cuffs around his wrists, though warm from his body heat, were beginning to get uncomfortable as well.

Phil kept quiet as he was lead to his new home for an undetermined amount of time - a cell was waiting for him. He knew that he wouldn't be alone, that there would be another man sharing the cell with him, and that somewhat got under his skin. He would have preferred to be alone, so he wouldn't have to converse with another person. Even though Phil was a criminal by definition, he knew very well that he wouldn't clash well with another one - he reckoned he was much too soft. He worried that whoever he was about to meet would tear him to shreds with a simple glance.

The guard, who's name he couldn't be bothered to remember, stopped in front of a cell door that looked just like every other one he passed by. He let go of Phil for a second to unlock the door, and it made a heavy sound as he pushed it all the way open, showing the entirety of the little cell.

The thoughts running through Phil's head were jumbled at best. His senses seemed to disappear, to get lost somewhere within himself. Although the guard was speaking at him, he couldn't make out what words he was saying. Those sounds were blocked out of his mind, not getting through for him to make any sense of.

Something about meals and going outside: he didn't pick out very much. He simply nodded his head as he stared at the lump in the top bunk bed before him. He couldn't even see the other man's face, only catching sight of his hands sticking out of the blanket that was draped over his body. Perhaps he wanted to hide away from everyone and everything, to disappear forever from every prying eye. Sometimes Phil wished the same.

He could tell that he had zoned out when the guard pushed him forcefully into the cell and locked the door back up once more. Somehow, Phil didn't even notice that his cuffs were taken off until a few moments later, looking at his freed wrists. He felt incredibly spaced out as he traced the lines they made on his thin wrists, forgetting the strange man in the cot a few feet away for a moment.

When he finally looked up, he was met with a pair of dark brown eyes; they stared holes into him, it seemed. They remained strikingly somber, in such a way that Phil couldn't open his mouth. He began to wonder what exactly the man did to land himself there, in Category A of Strangeways prison. The man standing in front of him appeared nervous, as he opened and closed his mouth - trying to find his first words to the other criminal he was forced to live with.

"I'm Daniel, but nobody calls me that here. Call me Dan," he introduced without as much as a smile. Perhaps he knew better than to smile at a new cell mate. He had certainly learned his lesson beforehand - those bruises stuck around for weeks, all purple and yellow around the edges.

Phil swallowed, letting his eyes fall upon Dan's hair: it was a messy mop of loose curls on his head. It was certainly a contrast to the other well groomed men Phil saw as he was escorted to the cell. "I... I'm Phil," he uttered in reply, voice meek and evidently fearful.

A few seconds passed by in silence, as a result of neither of the two knowing what to say, neither knowing what words would be considered safe to exchange. They both felt skittish around one another, and given the context of their situation, it made perfect sense to feel that way. It was almost as if they were predator and prey, instead of two prisoners meeting for the first time, but it was unclear as to who was the predator and who was the prey.

Phil was desperate for the bout of silence to end - he felt terribly awkward and misplaced in that cell. Behind Dan, he spotted a piece of paper that seemed to be taped to the wall. As he focused his eyes, he quickly realized that it was a drawing. "Um... what's that back there?" he found himself asking.

Dan turned his head to follow Phil's gaze. "Oh, that's just something I sketched. Come see." He then ushered him towards the drawing, to which Phil hesitantly took a few steps forward, remaining on edge.

The drawing was of a window, with heavily charcoaled trees inside, and what appeared to be mountains in the distance. It was quite a good drawing; it intrigued Phil, so much that he didn't feel as jumpy anymore. He had always been a sucker for the arts.

"That's lovely, I like it." Phil sent an awkward kind of smile his way, trying his best to come across as a decent person. He didn't feel like one very much, especially after what he did to land himself in that godforsaken prison cell. Hell, everyone he had met so far made him feel more guilty for what he'd done.

Dan fidgeted with his prison uniform, the ugly orange outfit that they were forced to wear. He returned the smile wryly, as he made his way over to the beat up desk in the corner of the cell. It was covered with sketching pencils, charcoal, and stark white pages smudged with different shades of black and gray. Phil was entranced by the dark skies and detailed landscapes that littered the wooden surface.

"I draw quite a lot, because I need some sort of creative release. Being holed up here for so long really starts to take a toll on you," Dan explained. "When I close my eyes, I see forests and night skies. I draw them so I don't have to close my eyes anymore."

Phil sat down on the chair underneath the drawing, wringing his hands. "So I take it that you don't like to sleep?"

Dan pulled the rickety chair out from under the desk, and picked up a pencil, beginning to shade a drawing of a tree that looked almost finished. "Not really, I do just to pass time. What... what about you? Tell me about yourself."

"Where do I even start?" Phil looked at Dan, watching him bite his lip as he focused on his drawing. He reckoned that he looked quite at peace in that moment, and it was certainly difficult for Phil to imagine him doing whatever it was that he did to put himself in prison. He didn't seem like the criminal type at all, he seemed like a typical shut in artist: quiet and coy.

Dan turned to look at him, eyes almost shining in the poor lighting of their cell. "Anywhere you want, we've got all the time in the world."

Phil felt anxious thinking about all the things he could tell his new cellmate, and all the things he deemed it easier to never speak of. He didn't care for personal conversations, but they were definitely much better than senseless small talk. He figured he may as well answer the question that was probably sitting in the back of Dan's throat, waiting to be voiced.

He got up and sat down again on the bottom cot, then turned to look at his new cell mate. "Well, my name is Phil Lester, and I'm in here because I robbed a bank."

-

Phil never thought he'd be the one to admit a wrong such as that one, but it was all too real. He'd done it, and there was no going back in time to change it. Even if he would have succeeded, even if they wouldn't have caught him and pinned him to the ground in the middle of the street - he still would have to live with the guilt of what he did. It could have been so much worse, he could have killed someone.

He had no choice at the time. It was either continue to live in absolute poverty and watch his father's health slowly deteriorate more with each passing day, or go out and get the money they needed to survive. Phil tried, he had a plan and everything, though it failed miserably. He disappointed his father, and the rest of his family as well. Now, he wouldn't be able to save his family like he planned to. Phil fucked it all up beyond repair, because it would be on his record forever, and no one would hire a man who once attempted a bank robbery. The reason why he did so, well, that would be erased. A minor detail, that was all it served as. It certainly wasn't important enough to anyone, since even trying to explain himself lead him nowhere else but the place made for people like him. He was a criminal, he was no good anymore.

They'd find someone else to do his job at the bustling restaurant he no longer worked at, someone else to run into the ground for not much cash in return. That place hardly helped to pay his own expenses, let alone his family's too. All his coworkers would see his face in the paper, the mugshot and the juicy headlining story written by an exaggerating journalist with far too many grudges. They'd see the grainy black and white photograph of him and scoff, then return to polishing their already perfect white picket fence. It wasn't as if they ever really cared about him.

The more Phil pondered what lead him to where he was, the more angry he became. An unhealthy amount of rage bubbled within him, stirring and spinning his head as he rested on the unfamiliar pillow. The cot was rock hard, definitely the worst thing he'd ever tried to sleep on in his life. Other than being just plain uncomfortable, Phil was unhappy too. Of course he was, that's what they wanted him to be after all. He was a criminal: nothing but a filthy, ill-mannered, parasite in the eyes of society. He was nothing now, for he had no goodness left in his heart. To be fair, the world never had any at all anyway.

And as he laid there, white-fisted, listening to the subtle sound of Dan's breathing, he realized something. Dan had never told him what landed him in Strangeways. He only mentioned a few personal facts, like his fascination with art and poetry. Phil found him even more mysterious, and not to mention, intimidating. He wondered what exactly it was. He had to know, or it would keep him up at night and slowly eat away at him over time.

Phil made a point to get it out of him, somehow and someday. Perhaps he could make a list of all the possible reasons why he could be there, and slowly collect hints as to what it could be. After all, there was only so much he could have done. Category A was deemed the most dangerous section of the prison for good reason.

With the fading of his last thought, Phil fell fast asleep. His first day at the prison was tolling, as Dan warned him it would be. He dreamed of being home again, to a family that wasn't falling apart at the seams. He could only dream, because the reality of the situation remained sad as ever.

-

The next morning felt cold and bitter; February in Manchester continued its never pleasant weather. The fleece blankets they were given may have been thick, but the prison didn't seem to be heated very well, if at all. Phil wanted to be at home, in his bed with the covers pulled up to his eyes: shielded from the horrors of the real world. He used to do that as a child when he was scared, though he knew he wasn't a child anymore. He was a man now, with enough regrets and sorrows to drown himself in. Perhaps he was only a child trapped in a man's body.

He laid there, cold and so far away in his mind - the very way he fell asleep the night before. Misery climbed up his spine and into his brain, sending awful thoughts that made the low hum of the morning feel so much worse. Phil heard the guards yelling for everyone to wake, but he stayed frozen in his place. Blocking everything out seemed to be instinct for him.

A voice brought him back, somehow. "Hey, Phil?" Dan was peering down at him from the top bunk, hair astray from sleep. "Are you alright?"

Phil looked at his cell mate directly in the eyes, while his voice caught in his throat. "Yeah, 'm fine."

"Whatever you say, Lester. Just know that I can read people like books. It's quite easy," Dan spoke, soft but very sure of himself. He then disappeared from Phil's vision for a moment, and climbed down the metal ladder onto the cold prison cell floor. He slipped on his shoes before Phil could even process what was just said to him.

Dan was ready to go get breakfast, but Phil was caught up in his own head: the words that were said to him made it spin. Dan could read people, apparently so. Phil wondered if that meant nothing, or if it really did mean something. He couldn't tell - people tended to say a lot of things they didn't mean. Words were just words, and only actions could back up the meaning they were supposed to hold.

"You're not okay, I can tell." Dan walked over to where Phil was paralyzed, kneeling down to his level. He hesitantly reached out his hand and caressed the hair out of his eyes. The action felt so loving that if Phil had had his eyes closed, he would have thought it was his mother.

Phil thought all too much about the hand that was touching him, so caught up in kindness of the gesture that he forgot where he really was. He was a criminal now, imprisoned for trying to save his family the only way he could at that point in time. Everything he could do was simply not enough, and Dan looked at him with the saddest eyes. It wasn't hard to tell that he was mulling over something - his face gave it away.

Dan didn't know what to say. The silence between them felt odd. He continued to play with Phil's hair, as he glanced into his eyes and watched them get increasingly glassy. "We... should probably go get breakfast. Before the guards have a fit."

"Yeah, you're right," Phil countered, and he felt Dan draw his hand away.

-

"So, it's like this on the daily? Just sitting in this cell for twenty-three hours a day?" Phil asked, already getting mind numbingly bored. He found that getting through his first full day of prison proved to be difficult, yet not in the same way he thought it would be. Everything felt foreign.

Dan grabbed Phil's empty plate and stacked it on top of his own, sliding them underneath the heavy metal door of their cell. The gap was hardly big enough to fit the cutlery, seemingly for obvious reasons - the prisoners in Category A could not be trusted. They were much too dangerous, much too unpredictable. The prison couldn't take any chances.

"You got it. We get those few odd minutes to collect our food for every meal though, and the hour exercise time. They're so understaffed that we can't even do workshops like they used to back a couple years ago." Dan turned around to look at Phil from where he was sitting on the floor. "Believe me, it was much worse when I had no one to talk to."

"I bet. I'd go insane if they locked me up by myself all day." Phil broke their brief eye contact, still new to Dan's presence, and prison in general.

Dan half laughed. "That's exactly what happens to a lot of people here. They come here mentally unstable, well... for the most part, and leave borderline schizophrenic. If they ever happen to get out, that is."

Dan's last sentence made Phil horrifically nervous, causing his skin to crawl. "What do you mean?" he asked, knowing that the fear was probably evident in his eyes.

"Probation isn't exactly common here, I guess that's what I'm trying to say. They've got permanent gallows and they put them to use," Dan uttered, with a strange kind of look on his face. He knew more than he wanted to know.

"Wow, that's... morbid?" Phil replied, astonished. He knew then what he had gotten himself into, he knew it all too well. But although he may have put himself there, that didn't change how he felt.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. "Just the way it is, and has always been. Those of us who've been here for a while know the ropes, and what they do with them." He fully turned his body around to face Phil, and saw the green tint to his face. "Sorry, this place has made me rather brash."

"It's fine, I should be toughening up anyway. I am a criminal, after all." Phil's heart leapt in his chest after he muttered the word. It still felt strange to refer to himself as something so negative.

"Nah, don't worry about that. Plenty of the inmates here are mentally six years old. Some of them have been here so long that they've forgotten what the real world is like - they have that innocent glint in their eyes," Dan laughed softly. "I'm glad I don't have to associate with them too much."

Phil smiled ever-so-slightly, enjoying Dan's weird sense of humor. "I guess that's a good thing then."

"Yeah, I can get to know you and have you all to myself." Dan sent a smirk Phil's way, watching his pupils underneath the poor lighting of the cell.

The words didn't settle with Phil until much later, but in the moment, he only smiled back.

-

"So, how long have you been here? You seem to know everything about this place," Phil wondered, careful to articulate himself well. They'd been talking nonstop the past few days, but he knew he was walking a thin line with such a topic.

Dan let Phil's words hang in the air for a brief moment. "About six years."

"Wow, it's just-"

"What?"

Phil swallowed, "you look so... young, it just surprises me a bit that you've been here that long."

Dan, without thinking, situated himself closer to Phil. They were sitting on the bottom bunk, now so close that their thighs were pressed together. "Well, how old do you think I am?"

"Um," Phil paused, trying to somehow control the blush that he felt on his face. "Twenty-four?"

"Close, I'm twenty-six," he replied. "So, how old are you? Can I guess?"

Phil couldn't wipe the silly grin off his face, and in all honesty, he didn't want to. "Go ahead."

"Are you... twenty-five?" Dan asked, observing the little crinkles by Phil's eyes. They were a product of his upturned mouth, and certainly not his age.

"You're too kind, I'm thirty," Phil chuckled.

Dan looked at him in disbelief. "You're an absolute liar."

Phil laughed again, "I'm being one hundred percent honest with you."

"Now I feel like a baby compared to you." Dan looked into Phil's eyes, knowing that it would be better to quit it while he was ahead. That thought got pushed to the back of his mind though, forgotten seemingly on purpose. He had always been terrible at self control; he couldn't help himself.

" _You're not-_ " and before Phil could even finish his sentence, the prison guards were coming around and unlocking their cells one by one: it was time for exercise hour.

-

Walking around the prison grounds for an hour wasn't their idea of excitement, but it wasn't like they had anything else to do. They had no other choice - it was mandatory. The days often ran together, since they all felt so similar. Not much happened that their brains considered worthy of remembering.

Though Phil swore that if he didn't have Dan, he'd be bored out of his mind, and not to mention: afraid. They kept each other entertained for hours, talking about their lives before they ended up in Strangeways. Dan's previous life seemed to be difficult for him to recall; he typically had to pause mid-story to remember the details. Phil couldn't help but wonder if all those years spent locked away caused him to forget what life was like before. He feared the same happening to him over time.

Phil didn't want to believe it, because admitting anything to yourself is quite the task, yet he noticed that something felt right when he and Dan were together. They clicked in a way that Phil had never experienced before in his entire life - it felt so strange and wonderful at the same time. His heart leapt whenever he found himself thinking about it, he figured that showed its importance.

And whenever his heart leapt in his chest, it sunk too.

He was still hurting, emotionally scarred from the news of his father's terminal illness. He wanted to help, wanted nothing more than to bring home enough money to hopefully save his father's life, and the rest of his family's despair. However, nothing worked out the way he planned - he beat himself up over it whenever he had the time to.

Dan noticed those little glints of hurt in his eyes, for they were just like the ones in his own. His own eyes held sorrow and dread; Dan was often surprised that Phil didn't notice too. Or maybe he did. He wasn't completely sure.

The two of them spent half an hour lost in their thoughts, walking silently beside each other with their heads slightly hung. Their foggy minds were far away until the shout of an officer rang in their ears, "Howell, Lester, separate!"

Phil nearly jumped out of his skin. He complied and added a few inches between them, since the officer clearly didn't want them to walk too close together. Dan glanced over at Phil and rolled his eyes, trying to calm his nerves without using his voice. The prison had some unnecessary rules, which were mostly ones the staff made up as they went along. It was senseless controlling, a type of power trip. Phil wasn't stupid, he saw right through it.

Dan knew too, though it didn't bother him like it once did. He came to terms with countless things during his time at the prison. There was so much time for thinking, perhaps too much. His head became messy, clouded with years of unfinished thoughts and hopeless worries. It gave him a headache just thinking about the state he was in.

But Phil helped to ease that ache somehow. He helped to distract Dan from the racing thoughts in his head - easing his mind with colorful conversations that took them far away from where they were. Dan just hoped that his little glimpse of heaven would last forever, and never be ripped from his hands that clutched so tightly.

-

"Have I shown you my books yet?" Dan asked, knowing that he hadn't. He didn't know how to tell Phil that he wanted to; it felt much too vulnerable to say.

Phil scratched his head, not recalling him doing so. "No, I don't think you have."

Dan made his way to a stack right next to his old wooden desk, pulling out a thin black booklet from the middle. "I'm not technically supposed to have this, it was tucked inside of another book. Guess they didn't see it when they were handing books out."

The cover read _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_. Phil recognized the author's name: Oscar Wilde. "What's it about?"

"Prison."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Oscar Wilde was a well known playwright at the time. But he was put on trial and sent to prison when they discovered his... uh, affairs with other men," Dan said, trying his best to explain.

Phil stayed silent, causing Dan's heart to drop far, far down into his stomach. He swallowed, and felt his face turn bright red. _Oh god_ , he thought, like a mantra in his head. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._

But then Phil came to. "He seems... cool. I think it's messed up that somebody could get put away for that. It doesn't matter, it's just relationships. Just people... being together. I don't get why it's such a big deal."

It was as if the seconds between the end of Dan's sentence and the beginning of Phil's were nonexistent. Dan could breathe; everything was okay. He could let his guard down instead of shaking in his shoes whenever he thought about it, because Phil wasn't like everyone else. Perhaps Dan knew that before, it was just more prevalent now.

Dan took the deepest breath he had in a long time, feeling his lungs expand and contract in the heat of the moment. "Y-Yeah, it shouldn't matter. I mean... it's not hurting anyone. I don't know. That's just how I feel about it." The words came out easier than he expected they would, yet saying them still wasn't easy. His chest felt like it would soon explode.

Phil allowed his eyes to connect with Dan's own. He saw both the horror and the relief in them - they swirled into one another, like oil and water. Soon, they'd separate. Phil wasn't a genius, though he knew what happened when you mixed the two. He also knew that Dan was trying to tell him something, without coming right out and saying it.

He moved a little closer to Dan and reached out to grab his hands, keeping a firm grip on them. "You don't have to tell me anything. Just know that no matter who you love, I'll accept you. I'm here, okay?"

And now there were tears in Dan's eyes, and not to mention: he was incredibly aware of how clammy his hands were becoming. Emotion flooded his mind - it made thinking near impossible. He had no words, none at all. He was frozen in place, and his emotions were to blame.

After a few seconds, Phil dropped his hands, and leaned forward to wrap his arms around him. Dan couldn't help but sob; no one had hugged him in so very long. He couldn't remember the last time someone had their arms around him, too much time had passed since. So he returned the embrace, burying his eyes in Phil's shoulder.

Phil was shell-shocked, but he knew what he had to do. He laid them down in the bunk carefully, as if Dan was a china doll, and tightened his grip on him. Their legs tangled themselves together almost instinctively, while Phil rubbed circles into Dan's back in an attempt to calm him down. The sounds of his sobs and the feeling of their chests pressed together broke Phil's heart into a million pieces. He always knew he was the empathetic type, but somehow, this hurt a little more than he was used to.

"Shh, you're okay," Phil whispered softly, focusing on keeping his breathing normal, though it proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. The reason for that, well, he didn't want to think about it. Not now. He would face that later, while wide awake in the middle of the night. Just not now.

Dan's sobbing came to a halt. He pulled away from Phil, their eyes meeting immediately. "Do you want me to tell you... or-"

"Only if you really want to."

Dan took a breath, "I... I'm... gay."

Phil smiled, "and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Thank you." Dan looked down, suddenly afraid of eye contact.

"Why are you thanking me?" Phil asked.

"Because you're the first person in my entire life who has ever said that to me. It... means a lot," Dan told him, voice hushed.

Phil was sure there were hearts in his eyes, for everything had shifted between them quite rapidly. "I mean it. I really care about you, you know," he admitted, his heart beating faster as he uttered the words. He knew Dan could feel it too; their chests were pressed together.

"I know." Dan didn't hesitate to bury his face back into Phil's shoulder. He smiled at the warmth the other man gave off; he felt so safe in his arms.

Phil just let it happen, appreciating the feeling of having someone he liked close to him. They stayed like that until they both fell asleep: holding each other tighter than anyone before ever had the nerve to.

-

Dan hated coming to terms with his feelings. He figured it was something no one really liked to do, yet it caused him much pain. Hours of his time were spent wallowing in all the questions that arose, trying to figure everything out. Amongst all those questions was one that he couldn't quite get out of his head: was he falling in love?

He knew what that felt like, as most people did. In his mind, it seemed to always be torturous. His sexuality gave him no choice but to hide his love, and it hurt more than anything he'd ever felt before. But now things were different, and Dan found himself pondering if he could go about it differently this time. He had never fallen in love in prison before.

Maybe he was falling in love. Entertaining the idea, his heart jumped in his chest. Dan's mind went wild: imagining the two of them being in love. He had to admit, everything about Phil appealed to him. From his personality to his beautiful face, he was completely enamored by his cell mate.

He was having trouble sleeping before, but now that he had so many thoughts swirling around his head, he was wide awake. His mind teased him with images of him kissing Phil; he then realized how badly he wanted to.

Dan closed his eyes and fantasized about it until he fell back asleep once more. He dreamed of Phil holding him, with those baby blue eyes brimming with pure, absolute love.

-

To Phil, the days always felt impossibly long. They felt akin to hours spent in a waiting room, waiting for nothing in particular. There wasn't much to do, except for talk to each other and listen to the radio. Dan had offered him one of his books, but he declined. He didn't feel like reading. He had too much on his mind, which caused him to drift in and out of focus, and attempting to read would only stress him out more.

Dan was sketching something, for the first time since Phil arrived at the prison. The scene was a lake, with rippling water and people out fishing on boats. He wished he could jump inside his sketch and enjoy the sunny, cloudless sky. Birds would sing, and there would be the sound of bicycle bells in the distance. He smiled as he imagined himself there, walking along the lakefront as the wind blew through his hair.

The sound of the radio playing a familiar tune pulled him out of his thoughts. A woman's beautiful voice came through the speaker, one Dan heard as a child quite often. He stopped and turned his head to look at Phil.

"What's the matter, Dan?" he asked, noticing the look in Dan's eyes. He looked worried.

Dan quickly returned to his work, pretending to look fine. "Nothing, it's just... this song. My mother used to play it when I was a kid." His heart sunk in the worst way when he thought about her.

"It's Vera Lynn, We'll Meet Again," Phil said in recognition. "I've heard it before, nice song."

"Yeah, it is." Dan stopped to listen to the lyrics, allowing them to take him back to his childhood.

 _We'll meet again,_  
_Don't know where,_  
_Don't know when_  
_But I know we'll meet again_  
_some sunny day_

It brought Dan back to sitting in the family room with his mother, while she read the morning paper. If he closed his eyes, he could see the loose brown curls that framed her face. Her eyes flicked across the newspaper in her hands, and her red lips were pursed in concentration. She was much younger - not a single wrinkle visible on her pale skin. Life back then seemed so much simpler, so very black and white when looked at from his current perspective.

"Uh, Dan?"

Phil's voice brought Dan out of his visions. "Sorry... guess I've got a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Phil asked, not hesitating this time around. Things were different between them now, after they fell asleep holding each other that night. Perhaps that little dose of complete vulnerability warmed them up to one another even more.

Dan turned around to look at Phil, and he could see worry in his eyes. The song ended a few seconds later, but he was too concerned about what he would say to notice. "Yes and no," he replied, heart in throat.

"And why's that?" Phil knew that Dan was a closed book from the start. He could tell the second they met. Yet Phil also knew that if he was attentive enough, and showed nothing else but kindness, eventually Dan would open up and show him a few pages.

Dan got up off the chair and sat down on Phil's half of the bunk. "It's not easy to talk about."

"I see," Phil countered, looking over at the little space next to him, then back up at Dan. "Come here," he said, while patting the spot.

That caused Dan's heart to drop, which seemed to be happening more and more frequently as time progressed. He tried not to let it get to him, though it had been on his mind more than he anticipated. Despite the fact that his mind was hesitating, his body was not; he complied quickly and crawled up next to Phil.

Phil didn't know what he was doing, but he grabbed Dan's hand and intertwined their fingers. He noted how well they fit together, how right it felt. A little voice tried to speak in his head, one that would tell him to be careful - he didn't pay it any mind. Instead, he looked at the nervous expression on Dan's face. "I want you to know something."

There was not a sound in the cell, not even a breath could be heard. Dan couldn't breathe; he wasn't even trying to hold the air captive in his lungs, it just happened.

"I feel... connected to you. It's not something I think I can explain, it's just there. I want you to know that you can tell me as much or as little as you want, and I promise I'll understand either way. You've grown to be quite important to me over the past couple weeks," Phil confessed, as his stomach tied itself in knots.

Dan's vision swirled, dizzying his mind. He wanted to press his lips to Phil's so very badly - the intensity of the moment didn't help to push the urge away. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again so he could figure out how to breathe again.

Phil could sense the quiet panic Dan was in, he could feel his erratic heartbeat in his hand. "Are you alright, Dan?"

"Yeah, 'm fine," Dan said in reply, finally breathing once more. Phil seemed much closer now, their faces mere centimeters apart. Dan sighed, contented. "I feel connected to you too, but... perhaps in a different way than what you mean. I don't know."

Something sparked in Phil's brain, and he found himself wanting to inch forward even more. "What do you mean?" he asked, while somewhere between already knowing and not knowing at all.

"I just... need you, _so bad_. I want to be around you every hour of the day."

"You already are."

"I know, and it's hardly enough. I think I need more, somehow." Dan felt Phil tighten the grip on his hand, and then untangle their fingers after. The very same hand was now cupping his cheek, and it took his breath away again.

Phil's pupils were twice their normal size - that Dan noticed just before their lips met for the first time. The rest of his body went completely numb; his mind no better. The beginning of the kiss seemed to be static, unmoving until the moment passed, until they both came to their senses. Dan had been holding his breath for longer than he ever had in his entire life, but he held out longer and continued to move his lips against Phil's lips.

When they pulled apart for air, which Dan was deprived of, something felt different. The little prison cell they shared held a certain type of warmth that only love could generate. The thought of something so meaningful brought tears to Phil's eyes - he never expected to stumble upon Dan when he found out he was getting put away for the crime he commit. It just wasn't something that came to his mind when someone mentioned prison.

For a few quick heartbeats, they simply looked at each other with utter awe. Phil's hand remained on Dan's cheek, almost as if they were sculptures carved out of marble by a lonely artist; frozen in time.

"Phil?"

"Yeah?"

Dan hesitated for another handful of heartbeats. "Promise me... promise that you won't leave."

Phil took Dan into his arms, holding his head to his chest as if to help shield him from the world, or the rest of the prison, maybe. "I promise I won't ever leave you," he whispered, voice sincere and sweet as ripe cherries in the summertime.

"Good." Dan knew, deep down somewhere within himself, that there would come a time when it wouldn't up for debate. A promise meant nothing in the eyes of the law, after all. Their current situation would never be forever, even if they pretended it could be. That didn't stop him from pretending that he could spend the rest of his days with Phil.

Phil kissed the top of his head, no longer worrying about holding back how he really felt - his heart would certainly burst if he tried to any longer. "I think I've fallen in love with you," he admitted, feeling his face flush red. His entire body felt as if it were on fire.

"What if I said that I have as well?" Dan asked, looking up at Phil as if he created the entire universe.

Phil's eyes were gleaming, so full of adoration. "Then maybe I'd say... I love you."

Dan smiled into his chest, and tightened his grip on him. He never wanted to let go, he wanted the moment to last forever and ever. He inhaled the tiny amount of air present there, and though it felt a bit suffocating, it helped to ground him in the moment. Everything else faded away, until only those seconds remained. Life seemed simpler; not a single thing to worry about.

"Did you think this would happen? Like, could you tell when we first met?" Dan found himself asking, not sure what type of answer he was looking for. His head was a little hazy.

"A little, yeah. It's not easy to explain. I don't really believe in love at first sight, but I do believe the universe lets you know somehow," Phil pondered as he slipped a hand underneath Dan's shirt, gliding it along the small of his back. "I felt something so minor that I almost didn't notice it, almost."

Dan's heart swelled as he understood Phil's words, because of the reality of it all. Phil loved him, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He could hardly remember the last time someone told him they loved him, for it had been much too long since those words had graced his ears. The people in his life faded away, disappeared after his conviction. Now that he thought about it, he didn't have anyone left.

Phil was an exception; he was the only one left to count on.

"You've made me feel so important since I've known you." Dan knew very well that he wasn't significant, yet Phil made him believe that he mattered at least a little bit.

"What makes you think you aren't important?" Phil inquired, while running his fingers along Dan's skin. Goosebumps began to form underneath his delicate hands - it sent a little shiver down Phil's spine.

Dan didn't have to think about the reason why. It was obvious. "Well, I am here," he quipped, very nonchalant. He picked his head up off of Phil's chest and gazed sadly into his eyes. He knew he ruined the moment, yet didn't care enough to try to change the subject.

"Yeah, and so am I. It doesn't make us bad people. It makes us human." Phil let his hands drop down to Dan's thighs, pulling his legs up so that he could wrap them around his hips.

Dan only shook his head. "You really don't think I'm a bad person? Because I know what you did to get yourself here, and I don't think you're a bad person. But me..."

Phil wondered about it a lot, though he never thought to ask Dan. It seemed rude to come right out and ask him such a thing, to pry like that. "I think you're a great person."

Dan started to chuckle softly. "You don't know me very well, Phil. I hate to say this, but if I told you the reason why I'm in this god forsaken cell, you'd never speak to me again."

"And how do you know?" Phil couldn't fathom why Dan would say something like that, but then again, it made him uneasy. His mind ran wild with assumptions, with possible explanations. He doubted that it would be much worse than what he had done. Dan was sweet, after all.

"Because I'm just not who you think I am."

Something in his voice broke Phil's heart completely, for both his own sake and Dan's. Perhaps Dan was right; Phil didn't know everything about him. How could he? They had only met several weeks prior. Phil drained all the air from his lungs, then took a few shallow breaths. "Okay," was all he could say, all he knew how to say.

And despite the fact that Dan was clearly hiding the truth from him for good reason, Phil's stomach felt queasy. The voice of reason in his head told him to put up a front to protect himself, yet he knew he couldn't do that now. It was too late - he had already opened up and showed too much of himself to the person in his arms.

He didn't have a choice, because he had foolishly fallen in love with his cell mate. Even though his mind began to scream treachery, it would never be enough to reverse the damage done.

-

The following weeks passed without much contemplation. Dan didn't want what they had going on to end. It became precious to him, something that he held close to his heart. He never had someone like Phil before, never had a person who loved him quite as much.

He felt the happiest he'd ever felt with Phil. Since he arrived, his cell no longer held the bad energy that caused him to feel so lonely before; it was full to the brim with joy. The kisses and soft touches they shared filled Dan's heart with hope, because it only got better as time progressed.

But the reason why he was there still lingered in the back of his mind, so small that it almost seemed insignificant. Dan knew, deep down, that that wasn't the case. It mattered, and it always would. He'd have to tell Phil eventually, even though he was terrified of his reaction.

_He killed them._

The truth rung harsh in his mind, clanging like a million bells all at once. Phil was snuggled up right behind him, with his face buried in his love bite covered neck. He could say it, but how? Dan didn't know how to voice such a thing to someone so important to him.

With his stomach churning, he made a quick decision. "Phil, can I tell you something?"

"What is it?" Phil's voice sounded calm, and Dan hurt everywhere just knowing that he was about to ruin his content state.

Dan could hardly breathe at that point - the fear restricting the expansion of his lungs. "I killed... my family. T-That's why I'm here." His voice came out as a whisper, but it was loud enough for Phil to hear.

"I... Dan-" Phil stuttered, shock coursing through his veins.

Dan flipped around quickly to face Phil and grabbed him by his shirt "Listen, just... listen. They hated me. They caught me with a man, Phil. They wanted me dead. I was thrown out the door, with nothing. They left me alone. I had nowhere to go, no one to run to. My dad punched him in the face and told him to never come back again. I lost everything in a matter of minutes," he sobbed into his chest, losing all control of his emotions.

Phil stayed silent; his eyes filling with tears at a rapid rate. He hated to see Dan upset, but he didn't know what words would mend him this time around. Maybe no words in the world would be substantial enough.

"My mom, my dad, and my little brother. All g-gone. I just... murdered them, like they were nothing to anyone. I didn't know what else to do with myself... they hurt me so bad. I wanted to hurt them too. I wanted them to feel how I felt," Dan continued to sob violently. He wasn't worried about drawing attention to their cell anymore; he didn't care. "I went too far! _I went too fucking far!_ "

Phil's mind went blank - he couldn't even react. He felt like he was dreaming everything up, weightless and floating in a nightmare that he'd soon be released from.

Dan lifted his head up to meet Phil's eyes, catching a strange glimmer in them. It could've been the tears, or it may have been something else; he found that he couldn't distinguish. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." He pulled himself from the bed and sat in a fetal position by the cell door.

"No, Dan," Phil spoke, still frozen in place.

"What?"

Phil swallowed. "I'm glad you told me."

Dan felt his own tears drip off his chin, only realizing that he was crying in that moment. "You're not scared? I'm... a _monster_."

"No. You're still a person in my eyes. You... you've made a mistake. And so have I." Phil took in a uneven breath. "We both have reasons why we did what we did."

"But that doesn't make it all okay. That's not an excuse. We did wrong, so now we must pay." Dan finally looked up at Phil again, taking in the broken look on his face.

Phil got up and sat next to Dan, close yet not close enough. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... there's good and bad coinciding in everyone. Our bad just happened to land us here. I truly believe that everyone has good intentions somewhere within themselves, but... how they deal with situations that test those intentions might not be the best way of going about it." His eyes had ceased to tear up as he explained, "sometimes we'll do anything we can to protect ourselves."

A couple seconds passed in silence, as Dan fixed his eyes on the cell floor. "And the ones we love," he found himself responding; not thinking twice.

Phil's face went dusty pink. "Yeah."

An entire minute passes, neither of them speaking. Dan then began to reach over and grab Phil's hand, but he stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Phil asked, noticing his sudden hesitation.

"Do you... still love me? Even after what I did?"

Phil's heart ached a little with the sound of his words, so he took Dan's hand and cradled it in his own. "Unconditionally."

-

Dan often wondered how he survived six whole years all alone in his cell. When he looked back on those years, nothing seemed to stand out, for every moment remained dull. Phil changed everything that day, from the moment he set foot in that cell.

Now, Dan couldn't even imagine six hours without Phil glued to his side. He'd miss his voice, the gentle touch of his hand, and the dizzy feeling he gave him. Life before him was nothing but a blur, lost somewhere deep within Dan's mind. Six years of his life gone.

Though none of it mattered now, because they had each other. Dan allowed himself to melt away in Phil's arms, to be present in the moment. He took in the intimate feeling of their bare skin pressed together, all flushed and pink from the love that was made. Blissful sighs hung like clouds; life for them was a dream in a place where it was never meant to be.

Dan's curls were completely astray, and Phil's hair wasn't much better. Not as if it mattered in the slightest, the night had just fallen and it was pitch black in the cell.

"I wish we could see the stars from here," Dan mused softly. Phil wished he could see his eyes.

"Me too." Phil knew he could easily just turn on the light, but he couldn't find the willpower to part from Dan even for a second.

Dan was resting his head on Phil's chest, and if he listened close enough, he could hear his heart beating. Something woke inside him then. He just couldn't tell what. "And I wish we would have met outside of here."

"Maybe in an alternate universe we did. Like, at a diner or something." Phil thought about it, gave it the time of day. It seemed so perfect; to fall in love in freedom, with no cells or convictions standing in the way.

Dan smiled from the sheer thought of it. "Yeah, maybe we did." He closed his eyes and let himself vision the scenario. "I hope we... I hope they're happy."

Phil brushed his fingers through Dan's hair, untangling the curly mess it was. "I bet they are." After the words left his mouth, he noticed how quiet it was. The prison wasn't always so soundless, but when it was, it felt like another world entirely.

They spent a few minutes breathing together, deeply and thoughtfully. Dan almost wished they could hear the sounds of the midsummer night, like children catching fireflies and cars passing by with the radio on. He missed little things like that: those simple moments that most would take for granted. They created the illusion of a normal, daily life.

"Got any other wishes?" Phil broke Dan's daydream with the sudden question.

Dan thought. He had a lot of wishes, ones he only hoped would come true. Most of them were far fetched. "I wish we could escape from here," he confessed with a low voice.

Phil's heartbeat picked up just thinking about being free with Dan, especially illegally free. He pulled him closer and pressed loving kisses on his neck, causing him to sigh in pleasure. "How could we?" he asked in between kisses.

"I don't know," Dan replied, every nerve in his body tingling. He tilted his head back to give Phil better access. "Maybe we could... sneak away when we're walking outside."

Phil stopped, his arms still holding Dan incredibly close to him. "That would never work, there's guards everywhere."

"Well, yeah. But we'd run and find a way out somehow." Dan knew it wouldn't work, yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Phil wanted to shake him and tell him that it would never work, for it would be too risky to attempt such a thing. He couldn't and wouldn't - he didn't have it in him to break Dan's heart like that. Letting him down easy was the only option if he wanted to keep the shining light in his eyes. "Maybe so."

Moments passed and Phil's lips grew cold, so he reattached them to Dan's neck. He focused on him and only him, sucking lightly on his skin so marks would be left. Something about Dan made him dizzy in the head, something he couldn't pinpoint. Perhaps there was no one thing - maybe it was everything.

Dan couldn't speak. He was spent, only a limp body in Phil's arms; driven crazy by love. He found it hard to feel anything else but those lips on his skin.

The midnight rain poured outside, and neither of them could hear it. Instead, they heard the pounding in their heads. It was love driving them crazy, nothing less and nothing more.

-

Execution. Execution. _Execution._

The word created a whirlwind in Dan's head. They were going to kill him for what he did, and he'd be torn away from the only person who ever loved and accepted him.

Faces sunk and the room began to spin. He forgot where he was and why, his vision blurring rapidly. He couldn't tell if he was going to throw up or pass out.

He did both.

-

When he woke up, he didn't remember what happened at first. When he did, the dizziness returned. That sick feeling hung over him like a smothering dense fog. Amid the cloudiness remained a familiar face, one he adored endlessly.

"Oh thank god, I was so worried about you," Phil sighed, sounding deflated. He ran his hand through Dan's hair, pushing it out of his face. "What was that all about?"

Dan's mind drew a blank. Telling Phil would crush him completely - it would break him down to his core. He couldn't tell him, he would hurt too much. Dan was already hurting enough for the both of them.

He fought through that suffocating fog, coming out the other side in near shambles. "Nothing... important. Just checking up with me I guess," Dan lied.

"Oh, okay. You just look so... pale. Are you feeling alright?"

Dan wanted to cry out, because he wasn't alright at all. His world was collapsing in on him, everything turning to dust. He swallowed his pride, "just feeling a little ill, that's all."

Phil sighed, wishing he could help somehow. "Maybe you should get some rest then. I'll leave you be if you want."

Little did he know, that was the exact opposite of what Dan wanted. But he had to play along, he couldn't let him find out the truth yet. He wouldn't be prepared. "Yeah, I think I'll go to sleep now."

"Alright." Phil quickly wrapped an arm around him and embraced him. "I love you," he whispered in his ear, even though it was no secret.

Dan half smiled. "I love you too."

Saying those words should have made him feel better, but now it weighed heavy on his mind. The guilt would haunt him until the end, he knew all too well.

-

The intensity of their obsession with each other grew more every day. It sent them to faraway places in their tiny cell, making the world outside seem a million times greater. There was only so much to do in such little space. They gravitated towards one another, their separate lives diminishing. They were in a world of their own: a conjoined world, a shared world.

Hours were spent reading together, listening to the radio together, and drinking each other in as much as possible. Their lips seemed to be permanently kiss swollen, and their bodies were littered with colorful marks and bruises. No one else cared enough to notice, for they were too worried about their own tiny lives within the prison.

Sometimes, Dan felt as if he'd suffocate in all the love he received. He knew he didn't deserve it, though he happily took all he could get. Phil never let him feel alone; he slept curled up next to him, and he sent tingles down his spine when they were awake. A moment apart was his nightmare, and Dan's heart prematurely ached for the day when they'd be separated for eternity. It loomed over his head, haunted him in every state of consciousness.

He tried not to think about it, because they still had time. The present was never something he appreciated, not until Phil came along. Before, he would spend hours wishing for his past, longing to relive it just once, even if it didn't change anything. Happy little childhood memories filled his mind; blurry yet clear after so many years passed. He used to want his old life back. Things had changed, though. He stopped wishing for the past, and finally began to focus on the future.

Yet the future he wanted would never manifest, because he wanted his future to be free with Phil. Execution would set him free, while setting him apart from his lover.

The feeling of hopelessness ate away at him - the process would break him down until he was nothing at all.

-

The cell was silent, except for the hushed sound of their breaths next to one another. Dan knew the inevitable was coming, he just didn't know when. And little did he know, his hourglass was nearly out of sand.

It wasn't quite time for breakfast yet, but they were both wide awake in bed. Phil reached out to rest a hand on Dan's face, watching his eyes sparkle in the cold light of morning. He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips; it was as delicate and sweet as the birds singing their early songs.

A few moments drifted on by, and they spent them smiling at each other. A swift knock on the heavy cell door brought them out of their world and back into reality. Dan jumped up and stood in the center of the cell. "Yes?"

The door opened slowly, revealing one of the guards. Dan couldn't name him if he tried. "You're Daniel Howell, am I correct?"

He swallowed, trying to curb his nerves. His hands started to shake as he realized what this was about. "Correct... that's me."

Phil noticed the tone of his voice, how it wavered. He felt uneasy.

The officer looked at Dan and nodded, "turn around, hands behind your back."

Phil had to cover his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

Dan complied, his mind drawing blank. Tears formed in his eyes when they landed upon Phil, threatening to spill over immediately. He tried desperately to pull himself together, but the flood gates opened. His legs gave out and his body met the floor.

The officer grabbed him by his wrists and pulled him back up again. Tears streamed down Phil's face - he couldn't move from his spot. He heard the clicking of the cuffs, the sound rattling his bones to their core.

"Wait, sir, c-can I... please talk to him for a moment?" Dan forced out, not caring about anything else but Phil. He needed to say goodbye, he couldn't just leave him with nothing. That would only make the pain worse.

He sighed, and let go of Dan's wrists. He stumbled until he hit the ground once more, his muscles weak with shock. "One minute only, so make it quick," he uttered, before he stepped out of the cell and shut the door behind him.

Phil scrambled out of the bed, and knelt in front of Dan. "Dan, what... what's going on?"

Dan looked up, into the blue of Phil's eyes. They seemed so much darker than usual. "I have to go, they're... executing me."

"No," Phil sobbed. " _You can't go!_ " He grabbed Dan's cheeks and kissed him, savoring every millisecond he had left with him. He felt the wetness of their tears on his lips, which only made everything hurt more.

"I'm s-so sorry," he voiced when they finally parted. Dan was choking on air; he forgot how to breathe. "Listen... I want you to remember me, please don't forget."

"I could never," Phil replied, knowing that Dan would haunt his memory forever, for as long as he lived.

Dan watched his tears fall onto the cell floor, darkening the cement. "No one has ever loved me as much as you have, and I have never loved anyone as much as I love you."

Their lips met again, punctuating their frantic conversation. Seconds flew by, and they both knew they didn't have long now.

"I will always love you, Dan," Phil confessed. His heart felt like it was bleeding, as if red would soon accompany the orange of his prison uniform. "Even when you're gone."

"We'll meet again, okay? M-Maybe in another life... or wherever I'm going now." Dan rested his forehead on Phil's shoulder, feeling the closeness right down to his soul.

Phil breathed in his scent one last time, committing it to long term memory. "I'll always find you."

The door opened, and Phil pulled him in one last time. The kiss was haste, and Dan sobbed when he felt the officer's hands on his wrists again. He pushed him out the door, slamming it shut.

That awful sound hung in the air. Phil just cried on the cell floor, knowing that he would never see Dan again - he was gone.

-

Phil couldn't drive without the radio on. It was a quirk of his, deeply rooted into his personality. He despised silence, for it brought back too many memories. He needed sound to chase them away.

And so he listened to the radio show host waffle on about the top songs, and recent celebrity scandals. It was all mindless talk really; a distraction from the real problems everyone faced. Phil was no different from the other people who listened to the radio religiously.

He quite liked Sunday afternoons, especially during the summer months. There remained a sense of peace that couldn't be matched any other time. He would go for drives, sometimes with a destination, and sometimes not. Driving made him feel free, like not a single thing in the world could tie him down.

They were playing older songs that day: classics from the thirties and forties. Phil recognized most of the songs, having grown up listening to them.

He turned onto a quiet, shady country road. The trees were tall, and created a thick canopy of foliage above him. They filtered the sunlight, so that only a few rays reached the road. Phil thought it beautiful.

The song playing ended, and the radio show host announced the next. He gushed about it, saying he adored the singer. A familiar tune began to play, a sweet and sad one that flooded Phil's mind with memories.

 _We'll meet again,_  
_Don't know where,_  
_Don't know when_  
_But I know we'll meet again_  
_some sunny day_

He slammed on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road. Luckily, there were no other cars in sight. Tears welled in his eyes, as he remembered the man he fell in love with nearly ten years prior, in 1954. If Phil closed his eyes, he could still see his face in his mind.

His hands shook, as he steered the car off the road. He reached for the key and turned the car off, his head falling into his hands. Phil let it all out - his emotions a whirlwind in the warm summer air.

 _Keep smiling through,_  
_Just like you always do,_  
_Till the blue skies drive the_  
_dark clouds far away_

He missed Dan terribly. He always would.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "I never saw sad men who looked  
> With such a wistful eye  
> Upon that little tent of blue  
> We prisoners called the sky,  
> And at every careless cloud that passed  
> In happy freedom by."
> 
> \- Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol


End file.
